The Heart, She Hollers
by xenascully
Summary: Tag to Kill Chain My hopes for an iota of this to be what the next episode contains... Also a possible tag to Hiatus Part 2...kind of. Due to the prediction, based on every other event ever, that the show will likely blow right over McGee's trauma, I had to do this. One-shot. Complete. McGee angst. Tony-comfort. Rated T for some language.


**The Heart, She Hollers**

**(Not to be confused with the godawful insane show on Adult Swim. It's an appropriate name for this story though.) Due to the prediction, based on every other event ever, that the show will likely blow right over McGee's trauma, I had to do this. One-shot. Complete. McGee angst. Tony-comfort.**

**Tag to Kill Chain | My hopes for an iota of this to be what the next episode contains... Also a possible tag to Hiatus Part 2...kind of.**

**AN: There's a shameless, yet appropriate little plug to my book series in here. I apologize. And yet I don't. Go get my books and read them because reasons. (C.M. Adams on Amazon)**

**Disclaimer: NCIS's characters don't belong to me. Let me play, and enjoy the story in which my only profit is the fun ride.**

*~.~*

"Go home, McGee. You're more important than this case."

"No. I'm not."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him, taking a moment to appraise what he could of the agent's face.

"Please, Boss. Just let me work. I need this." There was a level of desperation and pleading that wouldn't have been obvious to anyone that hadn't suffered the same kind of pain...

.

"_Kid, you need to go home and grieve," Mike Franks told the agitated Marine who paced in front of his desk._

"_No I don't," Gibbs stopped and turned, smacking a fist on the desktop. "I need to find the man that murdered my wife and daughter!"_

"_You don't need to be doing any of that, grunt," Franks retorted. "It's being investigated-"_

"_I'm not sitting around on my ass while people push papers around!" he cut him off. "You know as well as I, this guy is gonna get pushed under the rug; forgotten, and no one's gonna do anything about it because they're too damn scared!"_

"_And it's up to you to take care of it," Mike said, not quite a question._

"_Damn right it is!"_

"_Oh I'm sorry. I thought you were a Marine, but it seems we've got a cowboy on our hands."_

"_You don't know!" Gibbs replied angrily, getting right up in Franks' face. "You _can't_ know!"_

_._

That particular memory hadn't surfaced in a long time. Sure it had always been there, jumbled up with all of the other chaos that revolved around every moment from the devastating phone call, to the seconds after finally taking out Pedro Hernandez. But those were the moments he tried very hard not to think about. Those were his darkest times. Those were unbearable and heart-wrenching, lonely times. What he remembered the most, though, was the fact that Franks had trusted him. He let him see those papers. He let him do what he needed to do.

If McGee needed to work, to keep his head on and use his pain to fuel their desperate search for Parsa, what kind of hypocritical asshole would he be to tell him no?

So he nodded. "Okay, Tim." He watched as a little twitch of surprise flitted across his face for barely a moment, as if not expecting such an easy agreement. "Watch for unauthorized radio broadcast waves. Use MTAC if you need to." McGee straightened and nodded, turning immediately to head upstairs.

Tony watched him go until he was out of sight, then looked back to Gibbs. "Boss," he started, hoping that like always, his boss would understand the words he didn't say aloud.

"I know," Gibbs replied. "We catch Parsa. Then we deal with McGee."

"But Gibbs-"

"I know, DiNozzo," he repeated. "He needs this."

"He's too close to this, now."

"Tell me what you would do," Gibbs said, standing from his chair. "Tell me how cutting Ziva outta the equation when it came to Bodnar had a better outcome than if we'd let her stay with us on it. We do better together, Tony. It's when we split apart that the bad things happen." It was true on so many levels, neither of them needed to think twice about its validity. "We deal with Parsa. Then we can focus on McGee."

Tony seemed hesitant for a moment. His concern for Tim's psychological well-being churned something in his gut. His once baby-fat probie had grown up and become a capable and excellent agent and, for all intents and purposes, his closest friend in the world. But he was still fragile. He was still a sensitive, girly-hand-lotion-using kid. He'd had the worst luck with women. What happened to Delilah, someone Tim had seemed to sense he needed to back off a bit from just so he wouldn't get hurt, yet was encouraged not to be afraid...well this was a sting. It was more than a sting. It was a swarm of killer bees. Tony feared the fallout.

But then again, he trusted his boss, too. If anyone could understand what Tim was going through right now, it was probably Gibbs. Though Gibbs' loss seemed bigger, this right here was Tim's closest comparable personal experience. He may be stronger than when he first started out on the MCRT, but there was only strength in his mask, a need for distraction from reality, and once there wasn't one anymore, he'd have no choice but to feel. The longer he hid it in the pit of his stomach, the worse it would be in the long run. Tony knew this.

"Yes, boss," Tony said, turning back to his work. Bishop was oblivious, still buried in the puzzle laid out on the floor around her. She hadn't even seen Tim come in. Tony thought about the night before, how she'd thought they should go to the hospital. She was right. Tony should've been there for Tim. It made him want to get this Parsa son of a bitch even more.

And in the end, they did. They caught the bastard before he could do any more damage. The MCRT never even had to leave the building, in fact. It ended with Bishop figuring out the end-goal of the terrorist, and Gibbs, Tony and McGee remotely directing fifty armed military soldiers into the location via infrared satellite feed in MTAC.

When it was all said and done, Gibbs looked to McGee who was still staring at the large screen, then just past him at DiNozzo, giving him a slight nod before clearing the room of all personnel, including himself, and leaving the two alone before Tim even noticed that anyone had left in the first place.

That fact, the one where Tim was still unaware and staring at the screen, worried Tony even more. He knew what he was doing, of course. He was waiting to see if Parsa would somehow magically stand up and walk away, escaping, even though they had just received a confirmation that he'd been taken down.

"Parsa's dead, McGee," Tony told him, turned to face him with his whole body.

"I know," he replied flatly.

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Nothing. I'm just watching. In case."

"In case what?"

"In case... Just in case," he replied.

Tony let him watch just a few moments longer. "He's dead. He's not coming back, Tim. It's over. They've got it under control." He took a step closer. "You helped take him down. It's done. You can go home, now. You should."

Tim didn't look at him, but he wasn't looking at the screen anymore, either. His eyes flitted about the air in front of him. "I'm fine. I don't need to go home, Tony."

"You just lost someone you loved," he countered calmly, quietly.

"You think I forgot that?" he said, and he did look at him this time.

"Of course not," Tony shrugged, furrowing his brows. "But it's like you're trying to make us think you're not affected by it. Like we'll think less of you if you are."

"You know what I was trying to do, Tony?" he asked as he bodily turned to face him. "I was trying to back it off. I was trying not to let myself fall back into that trap again. I was trying to protect myself," he said with growing agitation. "Me and relationships? They don't ever end well. And not in the sense of breaking up, but like seriously damaging, insane tearing away. And it hurts even more because I let myself care. I let myself want it. But this time? This time I tried to protect myself! I tried to back away from the seriousness of it; trying not to let myself love her as much as I was. Then what happens? Everyone telling me that I was stupid to do that! Everyone telling me that I was too afraid and that what I was doing was wrong! So what do I do? I listen. I listen! I listen to you and Abby and what do I get? I get my h-heart ripped out again!" he stuttered as his heart-break started to come bursting out of the wall he'd set up to stop it in the first place.

Tony can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice and smell it radiating from his skin like a smoldering fire. The pain.

"Why couldn't you have just left it alone?" McGee asks, not specifically referring just to the man standing in front of him. "Of all the people who tell me not to build walls, not to s-stop myself from allowing people in, when you're both such pros at it! You're h-hypocrites, you know? All of you! F-fucking h-hypocrites!" And the dam broke. The red lines in his eyes giving in to the impending, frustrating tears as they spilled, Tim's posture crumbled, and Tony caught him up in his arms, pulling him in tight and holding onto him as he sobbed.

Tim protested at first, arms flailing to find purchase to push him away. But Tony's arms, one firm around his back and the other somehow maneuvering around Tim's in order to secure a shoulder with this inside of Tony's elbow-his hand clamping supportively on the back of the younger man's neck- caused Tim to give up; give in and allow himself the gesture of comfort.

He just stood there at first wondering who was making that awful sound; the wailing sobbing almost like a defeated child. On a hiccuping inhale, he realized that it was himself. He was a broken man standing only due to the strength of his partner. His best friend.

And then, instead of just allowing the comfort, he clung to it. His hands moved around Tony's back and grabbed fists full of the likely overly-expensive suit coat, pressing even closer into the warmth of what Tony was trying to provide. His head buried into the man's shoulder. He half-expected Tony to call him a girl. He expected a, "Man up, McCrybaby." But it never came. Except for the voices in his own head shouting at him to stop. Stop being such a baby. She wasn't your wife. This is nothing like what Gibbs went through, and you don't see him crying about it and clinging to Tony like he was the only thing keeping him from drifting away into the abyss...

"We're gonna get you through this," he heard Tony's voice, muffled like he was talking to him from outside of the room. "We'll all be here for you. I promise you, Tim. I promise. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay..."

_Okay_. That didn't seem like something that was possible. _Okay_ wasn't even on his radar right now. In fact, maybe it'd be better if he wasn't around anymore. It was like he was cursed. Everyone he cared about always ended up dead. And he really _really_ cared about his team. They were his friends; his family. They were everything. They could end up dead too, because they cared about him...

"That's not gonna happen, Tim," Tony said, squeezing him tighter even though that hadn't seemed possible just a moment ago. And hell...he must've said all of that out loud. "You're right. We are your family. We're more than that, okay? We're your friends. We're your team. We'd do anything for you, ya know that? We love you, kid. We're always gonna be here for you." He paused a moment.

"Well, I guess I can't promise that we won't ever die. We work in a dangerous field, after all." Tim didn't respond to that. "We're not Proprietors, after all. We can't _not_ stay dead." A broken huff of breath came out, mixed in with a sob. Tony counted it as a laugh.

Even though Tim couldn't trust himself to speak in that moment, Tony knew what he wanted to say. "Yes, I've been known to read," he said in response to the unspoken comment. "And yes, I support our local indie authors, believe it or not. Not everyone can be a Thom E. Gemcity with this big fancy publisher and the bestseller list stuff." He could tell that the younger man's sobbing was getting softer; less intense.

"Anyway, point was, it's not you. It's not because you care about someone or love someone. That's not why this stuff happens. Life sucks sometimes. Life can be cruel and demanding and hard. It builds us up and tears us down over and over again, because that's just the sad truth of life. And you...well you happened to have gotten drawn into a few doozies. A few whoppers," he amended. "Crappy, reheated, disastrous whoppers. Everyone gets stuck with one now and then, but you've ended up in the wrong place in line more often than not.

"But...on the other hand...life can also be pretty amazing. Life can lead us down horrible, dark, gut-wrenching paths of despair and sadness and grief, that end up leading us to something wonderful and amazing and completely unexpected that wouldn't have happened if you went down the pretty, sunny, happy road. And that...that might not mean shit to you right now, right in this moment where your head is at. I know it might even piss you off to hear it right now. I know it'd make me, personally, wanna throw a punch. _People_ with their...optimism and their high outlook on life. It's the last thing you wanna hear when, in that moment, you're so far into a dark corner you can't even _see_ the sunshine. The rest of us –Gibbs, me-well we're still only just standing right on the outskirts of where the rays are coming in the window. But you know what really holds us together? You know what keeps us from permanent residence in dark, dingy, musty basements?" He paused again. "It's you," he told him. He heard Tim swallow; felt him start to shake his head as he sniffled. "It's you and us," he elaborated. "You and Abs and Duck and Gremlin and Gibbs and me and...even Vance, hell. It's all of us, together. It's us against the world, McGee. It's you and me against the shit-storms that life will throw at us. It's you and me holding a gigantic umbrella to keep the rain off of all of us. A really big, giant, heavy umbrella that weighs like a ton, and if we aren't all holding onto the handle together, it won't stay up, and then-"

"Okay, I get it," Tim cut him off, a tear still escaping to roll down his cheek, sniffling and blinking to stave off any more.

"Sorry," Tony grimaced, embarrassed by his unintentional babbling.

"No, it's okay," he replied, slowly loosening his grip around the older man. "I get what you were saying. And I... I don't know what to say."

"It wasn't a quiz," Tony replied with a raised brow as they slowly parted from one another, straightening their crinkled jackets. "You aren't obligated to have a spoken response."

"Still, I... Thank you."

"You don't gotta thank me. It's what friends are supposed to do."

"Thank you...for being my friend."

He appraised the younger man; the red, swollen eyes and exhausted state of his entire being. Tony's eyes did that twitchy thing they always did when his emotions infiltrated his ability to quickly respond. And then he responded how he almost always responded when his emotions were getting a bit too serious for his own comfort. "Well, you know I'm a true friend when I still let you hang around me dressed the way you dress."

Tim's shoulders dropped a bit with the tell-tale look of annoyance at the insult. "Thanks a lot, Tony," he replied sarcastically.

Tony grinned and turned to swing an arm around Tim's shoulders and started leading them toward the stairs. "Just messin' with ya. Your outfits are very...you," he told him as they headed to the MTAC exit slowly. "You're a brave dresser, Timmy. You dress the way you wanna dress, and years of my suggestions have never really changed that fact. It suits you. And you don't care what anyone else has to say about it. Except for that one elbow-patch thing you had. I'm really glad you let us talk you outta that one. I wasn't sure how much more I could take seeing it."

"You're a jerk," Tim replied, shaking his head, though a small smile presented itself on his face.

"And yet you still love me, anyway," Tony smirked as he pulled open the door and looked to his partner.

Tim stood there appraising him for a moment, a half-smile curling up one side of his lips. "Yeah. God help me, I do."

"Good," he replied as they headed to the elevator, bypassing the staircase that lead to the bullpen floor. "'Cause we're not going anywhere. No matter how much you love us," he said as he punched the elevator button. He looked back to McGee to see him looking down at the floor. Then he second-guessed his last statement, grimacing at how it might've come across as insensitive to the situation. "I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay," Tim looked up at him with a sad smile. "I know."

They entered the lift, silence almost deafening as Tony pushed the button to go down. The doors slowly closed in front of them.

"I did care about Delilah," Tim said softly. "Maybe even loved her. God knows I'll miss her. And I don't wanna speak ill of her. She was a great person. We got along. We fought. We had our disagreements. But we had some good times, too, when we had time for each other. I'm glad I got to know her. I'm angry that I got to know her and then had her taken away, but...but I'm glad I knew her, and that confuses me." Tony remained silent, following Tim out of the elevator once they reached their floor. But Tim stopped there right outside of it. Tony stopped with him.

"It's like...when we lost Kate," Tim continued, and he turned a bit, almost facing Tony, but not all the way; not purposefully to face him, but to make it obvious that that's who he was talking to. "Except...really I feel like maybe I was closer to Kate than I was to Delilah. I spent more time with Kate. I knew her better, understood her more. It hurt when we lost her, and I tried not to let myself feel it as hard as my heart was telling me it hurt, especially since you and Gibbs and everyone else had known her even longer and you were all so...quiet about it. Internal, for the most part, I guess. Not like you weren't hurting, but you didn't let anyone see it, and I felt...unworthy of the amount of pain I felt over it."

"She was your friend, too, Tim," Tony chimed in. "Pain and loss...it isn't doled out in proportional quantities."

"Yeah, I guess not... I still miss her, ya know?" he said as he looked up at him again. "I mean, I _really_ miss her. Like...sometimes I stupidly go and look up the memorial slide show on that Legacy site, and it makes me cry like it was just yesterday." He said it with a self-demeaning breath of a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You do that, too, huh?" Tony asked, and Tim could see the slight build-up of moisture in the older man's eyes. Suddenly he felt less alone. "I remember thinking life couldn't ever possibly get anywhere close to back to normal after that," he told him. "That the facade of stoicism and strength would be something I'd have to wear every single day from there on out."

"That it'd always be hard," Tim chimed in, in agreement. "That I'd always be scared that one of you could be next and I wouldn't be able to handle it again." Tony nodded silently, swallowing a building lump in his throat. "But then, without even knowing it was happening, it was like little strands of muscles building up over time around a broken heart to keep it going. It was still broken, the pain was still there, but the muscles took over all the heavy lifting. It kept life going. And really, it prepared me for more loss. It's already torn open and that's the hard part, right? That's the most painful part. And it heals slowly, but there's still that imperfection there; that line. The next time it tears, it's easier. The give is already there and it already knows where it's gonna tear. It still hurts like hell. It feels like you're dying. But those muscles...are still there holding it together, keeping it from bleeding out, and reminding you that it'll heal again. It'll be an uglier line, a more distinct malformation. But it'll heal and life will keep going. Maybe..."

Tony furrowed his brows at that last word. Neither of them saw Gibbs, who had heard Tim speaking from the moment they got off of the elevator, and moved to stand on the other side of the staircase to listen. Not because he was an eavesdropper, unlike what probably most people might've thought. But because he needed to know where his agent was at, emotionally, mentally, for the sake of his safety on the field, and because he cared about him as a person. He needed to know.

Tim saw the question in Tony's eyes before the older of the two could ask. "Delilah's death hurts," he told him. "I wasn't nearly as close to her as I am to you or...or Gibbs. And you're the one's in harms way right along with me. I know that. I know better than to start obsessing or worrying about your safety. You both know how to handle yourself and I'll always have your six, at best. But I guess what I'm trying to say is...I honestly don't know how much damage it'd do. I mean," he shook his head as if to clear it. "If I lost you guys, I honestly can't fathom the severity of the bloody, gaping wound that would be where my heart is, ever recovering from that. I don't even want to think about it. And at the same time, I could never try and protect myself from that; back away from you guys. My walls I've put up? I've put them up with you guys already on the inside of it. You're my only really true family in this world, and if I tried to put you on the outside of it, I'd have nothing. Because in reality...it's not just those little muscles around my heart that keeps me going. It's you guys. It's this team. This job. But it's you... I can't make myself feel less strongly about you. I just can't..."

"No one's asking you to," Tony was finally able to speak. "But...what I will ask," he said as he lifted his hand, shaking his forefinger in front of him, a smile on his face that McGee knew to be one that was meant to hide emotion, "Is that you stop making me wanna cry, or hug you or something, because I dunno how much more I can take, and there are people that might think something's up if they walk by seeing me with my arms around you." McGee couldn't keep a humored smile from his face, at that. "You keep saying you don't want us to die, but you...you're kinda killin' me here, with all this heartfelt talking..."

"Okay, I'm done," Tim replied with a smirk. "Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. All of it," he said more seriously.

"No problem," Tony replied, relieved. "And you know if you need to talk more, ya know...later on, like...in an enclosed apartment or something, I'm there."

Tim smiled. "Yeah, I know."

Gibbs let out a breath, a relieved yet sad smile appearing on his face as he made his way back to his desk. He awaited his agents' return to the bullpen. He only had to wait a few seconds before they filed in. McGee stopped in front of Gibbs' desk, and Gibbs looked up at him.

"Boss, if it's okay and you don't need me for anything right now, I think I'd like to go home for a bit," he told him.

Gibbs tilted his head slightly, a mixture of surprise and pride in his agent. "Yeah," he replied. "I've got the paperwork covered," he added. "All of you, take the rest of the day. You did good." He glanced to Tony for a moment, giving him an almost imperceptible nod; a kind-of telepathic 'attaboy'. Then he looked back to McGee. "You need anything, you know how to reach me," he said.

McGee gave a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, boss," he replied, nodding once before turning to collect his things.

"Need a lift?" Tony asked him.

"Actually, yeah. My car is... Yeah." McGee headed out of the bullpen with his friend at his side. "I can't believe you've read the Version 2.0 series," he commented on Tony's earlier remark about Proprietors and not staying dead.

"Third one's comin' out soon, I hear."

"Yeah, well...I thought I was the only one I knew that had ever even heard of it. The author is pretty unknown..."

As Gibbs watched his team prepare their things, Ellie giving Tim a quick hug and condolences before they could make it to the elevator, he felt a glowing pulse in the ever-present pride he already had in them. Every hurdle that the members of this makeshift family had encountered, they'd made it over together. They kept each other sane, and much as McGee had said just moments earlier, it kept life going...

End~

**AN2: So it's happening. We're having a meeting tomorrow (Thursday, Jan 9th) starting at noon (EST) and staying open to all throughout the day. What for, you ask? Oh..just a possible CONVENTION! Formerly known as ANCON (Author's Note Convention), FANCON is in planning! If you'd like to meet and mingle and party with some of your favorite fanfiction authors, whether you're an author or just read, all are welcome to join us! For more info, find me on Facebook (xenascully) or our FAN (Fandom Author's Note) page. You can also visit the website, which I can't link here because this site won't allow it, but it's fandom-con dot com. You can also email me, xenascully at gmail dot com. Or ask us via twitter! Xenascully or fan_notes will be able to answer any questions.**

**Our planning meeting will be held in the chat area on the fandom-con website. Please "sign in" with your author name or whatever name you use most frequently as a reviewer, so we have a bit of familiarity with one another in the chat if possible. **

**The fandoms we're doing at the convention are NCIS, Supernatural, Sherlock (BBC), Doctor Who and Psych. Please pimp out this information to all your fandom friends that fall into these categories (even if in an author's note like this is)! We will be doing story-awards, as usual, also! **

**We can't wait to meet you!**


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